


Just Roommates, Right?

by orphan_account



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Razzabang - Freeform, Roommates, multi-chapter fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Barry's simple, mediocre existence is completely thrown off-track when his landlord evicts him, despite the fact that he had loyally paid his rent for the last few years. Now he must find a new flat with a new roommate, and enter Dan Avidan: possibly the most gorgeous man Barry has ever seen, answering the ad he put in the paper.
With the addition of Dan into his life arise a few questions: What will become of his newly acquired feelings for Dan? How can he help Arin propose to Suzy? And, why did his landlord REALLY evict him?
Note: I will add tags as they arise in the story, and since this is a work in progress, there will probably be a considerable gap between update dates.





	1. In Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thank you to anyone who even begins to read this - it's my first fanfic, and I don't really expect a large audience; I'm just doing this for fun. I hope you enjoy it, though!

I: In which we meet our character, his lifestyle, and a man with a forgettable face.

Barry Kramer lead a rather boring existence, for it was an existence, not a life. He had existed in the same shoddy apartment for five years and held the same shoddy work-from-home editing job for three. He began every day by rolling out of bed and shuffling over to his computer, where he would sit for hours on end just staring into the screen, the sound of his mouse clicking making just enough background noise to block out the irregular rumble of traffic outside. He thought nothing of this job, and he did not enjoy it now that it was his job, but he did it every day, without end.

When he was applying for positions with various companies, Barry should have realized that as soon as his hobby became his job, it would be just a job, and he would derive no pleasure from it. He was editing commercials, for God’s sake; not only did that get monotonous and repetitive day after day after day, but he also had no interest in videos of that kind. When he used to edit for fun, he could add personal touches that made a video fun and enjoyable.

Commercials weren’t supposed to be fun and enjoyable. They were supposed to trick you into spending money.

When he was searching for an apartment, he should have realized that finding an apartment for one person to live in was expensive, especially with the type of work he was doing. Barry wished he had a close friend with whom he could share a flat, for it would cut down on the expenses, cleaning, and all-around lack of enjoyment he had when he was in the place.

All of Barry’s acquaintances were unavailable as roommates. His best friends Suzy and Arin, who were in a very committed relationship, already had their own apartment. Barry would never mention the idea of a flat share with anybody to them, because problems could only arise from that arrangement. Suzy would undoubtedly take pity on him and attempt to set him up with someone he could room with—someone he had never met before, and who probably wouldn’t like him anyway.

His friends were the only things in this world that ever might make his existence close to a fulfilling life. When he could escape his house and his job and sit down to dinner with Suzy or Arin or Holly, another good friend of his, he could smile and laugh as though those were the only two things he’d ever done.

It had gone on like that for three years. He would stumble through the day like a zombie, then retire to bed only to stumble through the next day in the same manner. Every so often, this monotonous existence was broken by a friend or family outing, where he could actually live for a couple of hours, but he always had to return to his home and his job to continue existing in the same fashion day after day after day.

There were a few noteworthy facts about Barry’s style of living. For one, he certainly had a computer and he had an internet browser, but it was quite useless for anything requiring a Wi-Fi connection. His landlord, whose name was so simple that Barry simply could not remember it, bought the cheapest connection on purpose. It serviced one person at a time, and that was usually the landlord himself, who had an affinity for sitting in front of his computer and refreshing a specific web page, just to see if it changed.

Barry had never known what that webpage was. He just knew that his boss couldn’t email him any files he needed; a hard copy of every tape had to be picked up at the beginning of the week and returned, the same way, at the end of the week.

Another important point that the reader must know is the fact that Barry was a responsible, honest person. He turns off lights when he exits a room, makes sure that every door is closed completely. He pays his rent on the fourth day of every month, dropping the check into the office mailbox, situated on the exterior wall of the building for convenience. He double-knots his shoes.

Well, that last one was a lie, but anyway….

Because he was so used to his existence being constantly dull, Barry wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or distraught when he was forced to change his style of living. Indeed, being evicted was a drastic change—but he wasn’t sure if it was for better or for worse.

42.

Barry yawned and rubbed his drooping eyelids as the insistent beeping of the alarm clock sitting on his bedside table. He didn’t need to check the time to realize that this was his second alarm, and that he had overslept by fifteen minutes, because the sunlight shined with slightly greater intensity than it should have.  
While his eyes were still slightly closed, the faint sound of tapping reached his ears. His sleep-addled mind reeled in confusion for quite some time, but as the knocking persisted (growing more fervent as it did so), it acted as a second alarm clock. Barry swung his legs over the side of his bed and shivered when they touched the cold floor, but he shuffled to the door anyway, yawning.

Barry opened the door as much as he could before the chain door lock made it stop abruptly. He could peer out into the corridor beyond with one eye, which must have looked narrowed angrily due the fact that he had just risen from bed.

The knocker was recognizable as someone, Barry knew, but he wasn’t quite sure who. It was the type of person he would only recognize in certain situations, and now wasn’t the time that this man, whose wiry glasses reflected his thin, gangly limbs. His hairline was receding. He was short and incredibly thin, but he covered that by an old, frayed suit.

Who wore a suit, albeit an old one, in one of the cheapest apartment complexes in California?  
“Hello,” the man said. He had an accent, but Barry couldn’t identify it. “You are Mr. Kramer, correct? I believe that you are one of our three tenants, correct?”  
“Correct,” Barry replied in some confusion.

The man smiled a wide, false smile that didn’t reach his eyes. They were the blandest blue Barry had ever seen. “I am the lord of the land, if you do not recognize me. I don’t see why you would, though, so I must introduce myself, correct? My name is Jim. Correct.”

Instinctively, Barry responded with, “Correct,” again. Then he realized what he’d said and shook his head vigorously, unlatching the chain and pulling the door open completely. “Sorry, Mr….?”

“No need for formalities,” he asserted. “I said my name was Jim. Correct, no last names required. Except for yours.”

Ah. This was Jim the Landlord. Barry did recognize the face, because it just so happened to be the type of face that every weatherman had. Still, he did recognize the man from his actual job, even though Barry never visited the landlord.

“You’re my landlord,” Barry repeated unnecessarily. Jim opened his mouth, probably to say ‘correct,’ before Barry continued. “Why wouldn’t I recognize you?”

“Well, you never stop by the front office,” he said with some degree of offense. “It’s really nice, correct. Houseplants and things. Smells nice. But secondly, you never come by to pay the rent.” That last point was made rather whimsically, as though he were embarrassed to bring up the fact.

Barry wondered if he were still dreaming, tilted his head. “No, not correct,” he denied. “I’ve paid my rent every month.”

The shorter man shook his head. “I’ve not received payment in the past three months from you, Mr. Kramer. Or from the other two, for that matter. I sent you reminders, correct. Daily.”

Barry scratched his bearded chin. Reminders? He hadn’t gotten reminders, possibly because he hadn’t needed them. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jim, sir. I pay my rent every month. The fourth of the month. At ten o’clock, I drop it in that mailbox outside your office that says ‘Pay Rent Here.’ And I have done so for five years.”

Jim’s face grew irate. “You fool, you didn’t check your inbox, did you? Correct?”

Barry raised an eyebrow. “You mean my email? Um, no, sorry. The internet in this apartment doesn’t work particularly well. I couldn’t have gotten any messages.”

Jim huffed in extreme annoyance. “I sent a message to each of you, correct. It explained that the workers who redid the wallpaper in my office, three months ago or so, didn’t cut out a box on the other side for me to grab the checks from inside my office, correct. I couldn’t get them.”

“Couldn’t you have just, I don’t know, walked out of your office and retrieved them?”

He sighed. “Do you know how difficult that is? My secretary’s been missing for quite a few weeks, correct; hasn’t done paperwork for weeks. I can’t ask my secretary to collect checks for me when the woman isn’t there!”

Barry just bowed his head for a second. What was happening? It was early morning; he could hardly deal with his own lack of common sense at such a time, let alone someone else’s. “So you just left it there? No wonder you’re not getting the money; someone’s been coming by and taking it while you’re sitting in your office, pining after your secretary!”

“Correct, correct.” He seemed to ignore everything that Barry said. “Now, I’ve given you adequate warning, correct. I’ve given you more than adequate warning. As of this morning, you’ve legally been evicted. Now, if you’d be so kind as to move out by tomorrow morning, I’ve got a new family moving into these rooms by noon, correct.”

“Wh—what?” Barry sputtered. “Excuse me, I paid my rent! You can’t evict me; I didn’t even see the notice that you’d sent out. And I spent months looking for an affordable apartment like this—you don’t advertise in the papers—so how do you already have someone to take my place?! Are there really no other rooms in this complex?”

“Correct, there are. But, you see, there are only three that aren’t infected with mold. Well,” he said, eyeing a spot in the corner of the ceiling, “three that aren’t mostly infected with mold. And I’m sorry, everyone else has cellular data they can use to check their email, correct. You’ve been evicted. Good day, Mr. Kramer.”

He turned and walked back to his office.

Barry just sort of stood there.

His door slowly towards him, shutting in his face with an especially loud creek.

42.

Thus, Barry was evicted. He stood in the middle of the street, two bags slung over each shoulder and a suitcase in each hand, while the bulk of his belongings were already stuffed inside his truck. He was headed over to Suzy and Arin’s place—temporarily, he stressed—and he stole one last look at the apartment that he had once called home.

To be honest, he wouldn’t miss it. What he would miss, though, were those three months’ worth of rent money that had been stolen before the landlord bothered to get off his lazy backside and collect it.


	2. In Search for a Roommate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

II: In which I draw out the introduction even further, and our screens display a few new faces. 

The day after his eviction, Barry put an ad in the paper for a roommate. There was no way he could stay at Suzy and Arin’s forever—he didn’t even want to stay with them for a week. 

Now, that is not because he didn’t enjoy his time with them. Quite contrarily, these were perhaps the happiest days he had lived in a very long time. 

However, on his first night in their well-kept apartment, Barry sat on the couch uneasily, with a sort of guilt taking root within him. He would never be able to pay them back; he would never pay them such a courtesy. As it was, he couldn’t hold an apartment on his own. What could they possibly take from him that would equate to such a kindness?

He offered to pay them for everything they provided for him once he was settled into a new apartment with a new roommate and a new job, probably, because he hadn’t been able to continue his old one. That offer was promptly turned down, however, though Barry persisted. 

In the end, he gave up; Suzy threatened to kick him out the very moment that he mentioned one more penny of payment. 

Lord, he loved his friends. He’d be hopeless without them. Sometimes he wished that they weren’t so nice, though, because he was never as good a friend in return. 

He pulled out his phone and connected to the Wi-Fi in their house. For the first time in about six months, Barry checked his email. That absurd landlord hadn’t been lying about the emails he sent out; he scanned through them, and as he read each one, Barry began to loath the word ‘correct.’ The man needed to pick up a thesaurus, for one—and he also needed to learn when interjections were necessary. 

He had another email, though, which he was slightly surprised to see. 

From: Avidan, Daniel

To: Kramer, Barry

Subject: Roommate Advertisement

Hi, Mr. Kramer. My name is Dan. This morning, I found your ad in the paper—well, no, that was a lie. My friend saw your ad in the paper and referred me to it. Regardless, this email is in answer to said advertisement.

As you requested in your ad, I’ll give a bit of info about myself. Current address, phone number, age, social security number—the basics, yeah?

I have a steady job at a little restaurant called the Banquet Hall where I make enough money to cover half of an apartment rent, assuming that what you have in mind isn’t overly expensive. I’m in search of a new place because my old roommate is getting a house of his own, and I don’t make enough money to pay for our rooms alone. As for my schedule, I work from noon to ten at night, except on Sundays and Mondays. 

I would be interested in learning more about the apartment share. We both need housing in the same area, and I cannot afford rooms on my own. In fact, I have an apartment in mind that I believe could fit your requirements. Email back if you’re interested?

42.

Dan read over the email quite a few times before hitting send, and even a bit afterwards. It ached him to be so formal—he wasn’t sure which impression to give if he wanted this ‘Barry Kramer’ (who he knew nothing about) to accept his offer, but he settled for as formal as he could get without sounding prehistoric. 

Barry Kramer. The name rolled off his tongue—not that he said it aloud, of course—fluidly, as though he’d been saying the name his whole life. As if someone named Barry Kramer had been his friend for years.

But that wasn’t the case. Dan felt no small amount of apprehension about the entire process of responding to an ad in the paper; he was cool with meeting new people, but this was a bit beyond that. He was meeting a potential roommate, the first that had come around since his new apartment search had begun. He didn’t want to blow his chance of finding a new home before Brian, with whom he currently lives, moves away. 

His email was a risky thing. If he said one wrong word somewhere in the message, this Barry Kramer might scratch his chin and hum to himself, ‘Eh, this guy sound untrustworthy,’ or possibly decide that he was boring or humorless or in some other way repulsive. 

Reading over the email one final time, Dan sighed and accepted the fact that he had sent the email, that Barry Kramer would read it, and that opinions would be formed of him regardless. There was nothing now that could be done, but at least he can say that he tried. 

Barry Kramer. Hmm. Dan really liked that name. 

42.

Arin plopped down on the couch next to Barry, a large sandwich clasped in his hand. Barry turned away from his phone to face his friend. “What’s up?”

“Dude, I was just thinking,” he said, “that your landlord was a bit…. off.”

“What do you mean?” Barry questioned. 

“Well, don’t you think it’s a little weird that he just emailed you? Didn’t pay you a visit or anything?”

“Eh…. sorta? I mean, it wasn’t that well run,” Barry reasoned. “I bet, er, Jack? James? No, Jim! Yeah, I bet Jim didn’t know what he was doing either.”

Arin chuckled. “Sometimes, Bar, I think you’re too nice. Someone should go talk to that guy and use…. firm language, like ‘dude, stop.’”

“So strict,” he responded. “I bet you’d do great with kids.” Barry adopted a high voice and said, “‘Hey, Daddy, can I juggle with these knives?’ and you’ll just gently scold them.”

“Well,” Arin said defensively, “any child that I raise will be extremely skilled in the art of knife juggling. Don’t you know it’s a family tradition?” Barry just snickered in response. “By the way,” Arin continued, “nobody responded to your newspaper ad, did they? You only put it out this morning, right?”

“Well, actually,” Barry said, “I did get one response. From a guy named Dan…. Avidan?” he said the last name without much certainty.

“What’s he like?”

“I’m not really sure from the email,” Barry said. “He works at a restaurant, that’s all I really gathered. I may respond, I’m not sure. He didn’t really give me much.”

“You could wait,” Arin offered. “If you don’t get any more emails, contact him back, and if you do, just compare them. Like a job interview.”

Barry glanced back down at his phone, considering. He needed a place to stay quickly. And speaking of job interviews, he also needed to get back to his computer and finish all of that editing by the next day….

It wasn’t going to happen; he was going to get fired. Why would Dan Avidan want a roommate who can’t even hold a job? Well, he had held it for five years, but wasn’t it a bit coincidental that he would end up losing the job right as he went looking for another apartment?  
If he waited too long, he’d regret it. With Arin crunching on the sandwich rather noisily to his left, Barry typed out a response. 

42.

Dan picked at the fraying fabric of his jeans as he waited. Occasionally, he would fix his beanie, which didn’t need fixing anyway; it only succeeded in messing up his hair, which he would then have to brush out of his eyes. In the end, he just took of the hat and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

He checked his phone again; it was one o’clock. That was the time mentioned, right? The day before, Dan had gotten a response containing a date, time, and location at  
which to meet from Barry Kramer. Now, it was twelve fifty-three. Weren’t you supposed to be early if you organized the meet? Maybe Dan had misread something. 

God, he hoped that wasn’t the case; he really needed a new place to live. Brian would be married in no time—he was happy for the man, of course, but the fact still put a lot of pressure on Danny. He needed someone else to come move in with him and take Brian’s place, or vice versa. 

“Hey, are you Dan Avidan?” Came a genial voice from behind him. Danny looked up from his frayed pants and spun around to greet the source. 

He was facing a man in purple flannel, rolled up to the elbows. He was sorter and broader than Dan, with a kind, round face and a strong, bearded jaw. His hands were in his pockets, and he tensed his shoulders as though he were nervous. 

Dan smiled widely at the man, relieved that he hadn’t misread any information. “Yeah. Are you Barry Kramer?”


	3. And Finally, They Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who keep reading this. I really hope you like it!

III: In which friendships and memorable impressions are made.

“Thanks for responding to the email,” Dan Avidan said. “I’m really under a lot of pressure to find a new roommate.” He smiled at Barry kindly. 

Oh, and what a smile it was, Barry thought to himself. He never thought he was interested in guys, but that wasn’t to say that he couldn’t recognize the fact that a man is good-looking, which Dan Avidan certainly was. A wide smile that proudly displayed white teeth, with warm, chocolate brown eyes that seemed to join in on the merriment. Barry knew it was only given out of politeness, but he appreciated the smile anyway.

“Oh—er, yeah, of course! I need to find a place to stay just as fast. I was evicted,” Barry supplied, then cringed. Was that the wrong thing to say? It didn’t put the wrong image of him in Dan Avidan’s eyes, did it? “Not for any rule violations; I mean, there was just a misunderstanding and the landlord was being, er, stubborn.”

“Oh, that sucks. At least I’m leaving voluntarily….to an extent. Brian didn’t consult me before he proposed to Rachel.” Again with the smile. 

“So Brian was your old roommate? Is he keeping the apartment, or is that the one you wanted to talk about?” Barry thought he tripped his words up in his mouth, so he struggled to keep them clear and precise. It made him sound like a complete jerk, though, as if he were speaking to an impressionable child. Stop it, Barry. You need to just act….regular. 

“He hasn’t moved out yet,” he clarified. “I’ve got at least a month until he has to go, but Rachel wants him to move in with her sooner. I was hoping you could just move in, if you’d like.”

Barry nodded, and he almost agreed on the spot, before his brain caught up to him. “Well, I’d have to see the rooms, of course,” he said, though he had a feeling he already knew his answer. 

Dan ran a hand through his voluminous hair and chuckled good-naturedly. “Yeah, and I’d have to give you proof that I’m not a serial murderer.” He added to himself in an undertone that was obviously meant to be heard, “Good thing I remembered to clear the blood away from the bookshelf before leaving the apartment.”

“Hey, you do you, man. I’d be fully supportive of any….extracurricular murderous activities you choose to partake in, so long as I’m not the victim,” Barry said. 

Dan shook his head and grinned, “No, I wasn’t talking about me! I’d never kill someone. No, it’s Brian; he brings home all of his victims and stuffs them in the living room, between the bookshelf and the TV. It’s really annoying, honestly, Brian is a ninja, after all.”

Barry laughed. “Shouldn’t he be better at hiding the bodies, then?”

“Nah, he’s too lazy for that. If anyone tried to turn him in, he’d just kill them, too. Be careful about what you say to your friends about him,” Dan nudged Barry with his shoulder in the friendliest way, as though they had known each other for a lot longer than ten minutes. “You wouldn’t be able to pay rent if you were dead.”

The conversation went on in that manner; Dan and Barry exchanged relevant information about their lives. This mainly entailed Dan speaking on about something or other, while Barry listened intently. Dan described any hobbies that could potentially become bothersome to a roommate:

“I sing loudly at random intervals,” he said without shame. “I hope you’re not, what, melodiphobic? Melophobic?”

“Only if you’re bad at it,” Barry said. With a voice as fluid as Dan’s, though, he doubted that would be the case. 

Now it was Barry’s turn to display a possibly irritating fact about himself. He had to think hard on that one; it was not because he saw himself as perfect, but rather, because of the fact that he didn’t do anything in the first place, good or bad. 

“I put my feet up on the couch. Usually with shoes on,” he decided. It was true; he had a habit of propping his feet on furniture without taking his shoes off. It was such a regular thing that he had forgotten it was rude. 

Dan shrugged. “That wouldn’t really bother me.” Then he pointed to his head, on which his messy brown curls sat idly. “I probably get hair everywhere, so that’s something to watch out for.”

A few other bad habits were discovered; Dan often played his music too loud. Barry usually doesn’t talk in large groups, which he knew irritated some people; he preferred one-on-one conversations. Dan also had trouble sleeping under certain circumstances. 

Then, they came to the topic of jobs. “I work at the Banquet Hall, like I said in the email. I’ve got two shifts a day—it’s a weird schedule, but I only go in when they have the most business. I work from eleven to two during the day and six to ten at nights—every day but Sunday and Monday,” Dan supplied. “What about you?”

Barry wrung his hands together; he wasn’t sure how to answer that. He’d emailed his boss, explaining what had happened with the rent money fiasco, but as of two hours ago, he had yet to get a response. He still had one copy of the commercials he had edited on Arin and Suzy’s table, but he wasn’t sure if the company even wanted them anymore, since they were late. 

“I freelance edit,” he said, which was true, to an extent. When he didn’t have much work to do, he would accept small jobs for little corporations. “Commercials, mostly, but I’ve done a couple academic videos.”

“I actually went to school for advertising,” Dan said, “and I’ve never used that knowledge once in my life. But, like, what do you mean, academic videos?”

“Little schools with teachers too lazy to actually speak in front of the class,” he responded. “I never really cared what I edited. It’s just a job, you know? I don’t really enjoy it anymore.”

“I can’t imagine not loving my job,” Dan said dreamily, as though he were picturing what he would do the next day at that restaurant. Barry found himself wondering, what exactly did he do at work?

As the hour drew on, Barry found himself liking Dan more and more. The man was nice and genuine—and his smooth voice was very pleasant to listen to. He found himself hoping that Dan was the one who would be his next roommate, hoping that Dan liked him as much as he liked Dan. 

Well, ‘like’ is an operative word. Was there really not a substitute that had fewer possible interpretations?

“Do you want to see the apartment I have already?” asked Dan. “It’s a bit messy, but I’m sure it would be easier to clean once Brian moves out.”

“Way to blame it on your friend, huh?” Barry chuckled. “Sure.”

42.

Dan led Barry into the apartment. It was small, with only two bedrooms, which was all he expected. The kitchen and dining room—there wasn’t hardly a difference between them—were miniscule, but that just allowed for more space to be taken up by the living room. 

Architecturally, Barry liked the place He had to admit, though, it was a complete mess. 

It wasn’t the gross sort of mess that made someone close their eyes and hold their nose, but it was cluttered. Everything was unorganized—a shelf had CD cases strewn across it without rhyme or reason, and Barry noticed that they were either music or video games. Random junk was just laying everywhere, from pieces of paper with music notes on them (Dan did like music a lot, then) to a keyboard propped up against a wall to an unclosed board of Cluedo. 

“The keyboard’s Brian’s—and all that music is just some random stuff I jot down when I’m bored,” Dan said, shuffling his weight from foot to foot nervously, as though the prospect of someone else reading songs that he wrote irked him. “And Brian and I tried playing two-person Clue the other night—didn’t work out too well.”

Barry felt awkward, suddenly; he didn’t know what to say about the mess. To be honest, it didn’t bother him. He was sure his apartment would have looked the same if he just had more things. 

Dan walked around to the table in the middle of the room and began to organize things quickly. “Er, in retrospect, I really should have cleaned up before….” Barry shook his head and was about to say that it was fine, but Dan went on, “I can keep a clean apartment, really. I just didn’t plan on actually getting along with you—oh, no. That’s not what I meant at all. I mean, I didn’t think you’d respond to my email.” He picked up an unsolved Rubik’s Cube and gave it the worst glare for sitting on the table instead of neatly on the shelf. “I just—”

“Hey, come on, it’s fine,” Barry said, trying to calm him down. “Don’t stress out about it. My apartment was just as messy.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Dan didn’t need to know that. 

“Well—uh, thanks,” Dan said, looking him in the eyes until his gaze landed on something behind Barry. “What….oh, come on, Brian!”

Barry began to turn around just as something wrapped around his shoulders. They were arms. A split second later, something dull and plastic was pressed up against his neck very gently. 

Dan sighed exasperatedly. “Come on, dude. Halloween’s over.”

Barry broke free of the weak bond that ‘Brian’ had on him and turned to see a man dressed in a black and yellow ninja costume. He was staring Barry dead in the eyes with great intensity, and he wondered idly if something was wrong with the man. It seemed as though Brian couldn’t hold in his laughter, however, for he bent over himself in a fit of giggles and ripped off his mask. 

“Sorry, Dan,” Brian said between laughs. “I tried to keep a straight face longer, but you’re just too hilarious,” he said to Barry. Barry chuckled awkwardly, not entirely sure what was happening. 

“Does this, uh, usually happen?” he asked Danny, which only evoked more laughter from Brian. 

“Only when Dan has someone new come over to the apartment,” Brian responded. “So, basically, no.”

Dan still shook his head slowly. He pointedly did not look at Brian and asked, “So, Barry, do you want to think about it for a while? Do you want to move in?”

Barry smiled. “I think this could work. I’d like to move in as soon as possible.”

Positively beaming, Dan nodded.


	4. Moving In

IV: In which our characters experience a change in environment, and some protective friends make another appearance. 

Barry didn’t have many boxes to haul over to Dan’s apartment—no, he reminded himself; it was their apartment now. He hadn’t called Suzy and Arin’s place ‘home’ for the three days he had lived there because it wasn’t home, but this was different. 

He was paying money for this. 

Barry shook his head; that wasn’t going to be the only reason it was home. It was bound to be a lovely place to live. Or, more truthfully, Dan was bound to be a lovely person to live with. 

He, Suzy, and Arin piled into his car and made their way to Dan’s apartment. Suzy was more than eager to meet his new roommate. 

“What’s he like?” she asked.

Barry shrugged and said, “He seems cool.” Honestly, he was beyond cool, but Barry decided not to say anything that would give Suzy the wrong idea. Or was it the right idea?

No. He’d met the man once; he hadn’t developed a crush, had he?

He couldn’t tell how Suzy had interpreted his comment until she responded with, “Do you think you’ll be happy?” in a concerned voice. 

“Suzy,” he said, “he really does seem nice. I just don’t know him that well yet. I’m sure he’ll be great.”

She nodded and glanced at him with a worried smile. “If something goes wrong, or if you’re in any way unhappy, you’ll tell us, right?”

“Of course,” he said. He wasn’t sure how true that answer was, but as it was, she and Arin were the first two people to know of any significant developments in his life.   
“Not that I think I’ll need to.”

“Just making sure,” she said. “I would really hate it if you were unhappy.” He smiled at her, and they rode in silence the rest of the way. 

42.

Dan glanced down at his phone for the second time in five minutes. He whistled a made up tune for a moment until he decided that whistling took too much effort, so he instead began to pace around the room. That, too, took effort, so he decided to reorganize his videogame collection. 

At least that was satisfying. 

Dan wondered if Barry was even into videogames. It should really have been one of the first questions he asked, but Dan had just been too caught up in everything else—Brian’s wedding, how soon Barry could move in (if he decided to), and just how someone’s eyes could be such a cool shade of blue as Barry Kramer’s….

He shrugged off that last thought. At least, he tried to. He noticed that a very similar shade of blue was printed on one of his many Sonic games, but he paid more attention to the color rather than what it actually said.

What kind of games would Barry like the best? Dan tried to organize it according to ‘coolest’ first, but Barry was bound to have different opinions on the matter. He then sorting them by color, though that ended up looking too….not Dan-ish, so he made them as mixed-up as he could. 

That was better. 

He looked around his apartment for something else to tidy, but there was nothing; it was oddly blank, without all of Brian’s junk lying about. Well, Dan had thrown plenty of trash around too, but he now had more places to store said trash. 

After he picked up a book and replaced it in the exact same spot no less than three times, Danny finally decided that he was displaying his nerves too obviously. Why was he nervous? He was only getting a new roommate; what should it matter? Yeah, it was a guy who made Dan feel like smiling and laughing the very first time they met (he hadn’t even behaved like that with Brian, his best friend), but what would it matter?

He didn’t know the answer to that question, but he knew that he would never, ever ask Brian. 

A few moments later, Dan heard a ring at the doorbell. He practically flew to the door and wrenched it opened, only to be sorely disappointed. 

“How you going, neighbor!” said the chipper voice of his neighbor, Ross O’Donovan. Dan groaned audibly, but as usual, Ross simply ignored him. 

The most annoying Australian Dan knew waltzed past him into his house. This description wasn't entirely valid, for Ross was the ONLY Australian Dan knew, but regardless. “Ooh, it smells nice. Looks nice, too. It’s, like, bigger, and empty. Are you having company?”

“Apparently,” Dan said underneath his breath. He didn’t dislike Ross, despite of how exasperatedly he may react to the man’s shenanigans. His neighbor could be quite nice, when he wasn’t purposely being unpleasant. “What’s up?”

“My computer isn’t working. Technology is stupid, you know? Anyway, who’s comin’ over?”

“Uh,” Dan said, “a friend. He’s my new roommate.”

“Oooh,” Ross jeered, “d’you think I know him?”

“Probably not. I’ve only just met him.” Danny shrugged, averting his eyes from Ross, who just plopped down on his couch uninvited. Dan didn’t bother objecting. 

“Yeah, and if the Dan Avidan doesn’t know him, nobody knows him,” Ross laughed. 

“I am world famous for knowing people,” Dan said in his fake celebrity voice. “I get to know annoying people like Ross O’Donovan…. So you don’t have to!” He looked off to the side, as though he were staring a camera directly in the lens, and winked. 

A knock came from the door this time, instead of a ring. Ross jumped up and shouted, “It’s a friend!” excitedly as he bounded noisily for the door. 

Dan’s face heated up; Barry was going to see not his pristinely cleaned apartment, nor would he smell the (for once) fragrant air; no, first, he’d see Ross’s stupid excited face. He would move away immediately. 

Dan slowly made his way to the door, reluctant to see Barry’s reaction to his other friend. He heard Barry’s voice from the doorway saying, “Uh, Dan, I think you’ve gone through metamorphosis.” 

He had to chuckle at that. It was such a petty joke, but Dan thought it was cute. 

“I guess after meeting Brian, you’re not surprised by anything here,” Dan said, coming into view. He smiled at Barry warmly, who grinned in return. Dan’s heart beat a bit faster. 

“Oh, you just cloned yourself, that’s what!” he amended. “Wait…. Why do you look shorter?” He laughed. “Anyway, I’m Barry Kramer; hi.” He shifted the weight of the large box in his arms and proffered one hand to Ross, who eagerly shook it. 

“I’m Ross!” he basically shouted, backing up to let Barry enter the apartment. “Nice to meet you!”

Dan noted the awkwardness with which Barry carried that big cardboard box, so he rushed around the couch to grab it out of his hands. “Let me take that for you.”

“Thanks,” Barry said appreciatively. The moment Dan took full control of the box, his back felt like it would snap in half—how could this man carry it all the way to Dan’s front door?! Dan wasn’t that weak, was he? “Sorry, it may be heavy.”

“Ha,” Dan breathed as he waddled over to the couch and set the box down quickly. “Just a bit.”

“I came with a couple of friend,” Barry said. “They wanted to meet my new roommate. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Ross snickered before Dan could answer. “Dan gets to know people…so others don’t have to!”

Barry must have sensed that this was an inside joke, no matter how recently it was made, for he did not question it; rather, he walked over to the door and beckoned for his friends to come in. 

Each of them approached the door with a box in their arms. One was a man, slightly thick, with long-ish brown hair (not nearly as amazing as Dan’s, though) struck through with a streak of blond. He wore a black t-shirt and pajama pants, which was vastly different from the other friend, who wore a stylish black outfit. She also had a streak of blond in her hair—were the two of them together? It was a cute gesture. 

They both smiled at him and placed the boxes next to Barry’s on the desk. If a girl a foot shorter than he could carry that box with such ease, Dan should be able to, shouldn't he?

Oh, who was he kidding? This woman could probably murder anyone she wanted to with just her pinky. 

“She’s Suzy,” Barry introduced, and the girl smiled and said ‘hi’ in a cheery voice, “and that’s Arin.”

“So I hear you kill people,” Arin said. “That’s cool. I tried it; it’s not for me. Got arrested too many times.”

Dan sent a sidelong glance at Barry, who objected to Arin’s statement. “Er, no, Arin, Brian killed people. He’s the ninja, remember?” Barry knew that he wasn’t actually a ninja, Dan was sure, but he found it funny that they play through scenarios like this as though it were perfectly natural. 

“Oh, right,” Arin said, dejected. “This guy’s not as cool now.” Then he did away with the pouting face and offered his hand. “I’m Arin Hanson. But, make sure this ‘Brian’ doesn’t kill Barry. He left some trash on my couch and I don’t want to clean it up myself.”

“If you’re talking about those bread crumbs, you know that it wasn’t me,” Barry said in mock seriousness, pointing an accusing finger at Arin. 

“Hey, Barry, let’s go decorate your room,” Suzy said. “I brought all your computer stuff; I’ll help you set it up.”

The two of them left, leaving Dan and Arin in the living room. Ross had probably just farted himself out of the scene—probably to Australia. He was in the habit of doing stuff like that. 

It’s a serious problem. 

“So, Barry’s real excited for this whole move,” Arin commented. “Haven’t seen him so psyched in ages.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. To be honest, he always seemed a bit….blah with life. I don’t know you, but I know him, and if anything, such a big life-changing development like getting a new roommate could really pull him out of the gutter.”

“Did he deal with, like, depression?” Dan asked, curious and slightly worried. 

“No,” he said, “but we can tell that he just exists. He’s not enthused by anything anymore, unless we present it to him. He doesn’t want to tell us, but Suzy’s really good at reading people.”

“So, are you telling me this for any reason? Is there something you wanted me to do?”

“Of course! We want you to be friends with him. You’re just his roommate, and you’ve only known each other for a couple of days, but he needs some more fun in his life. Excitement. Laughs. A new job.” Arin looked around the apartment, taking it all in. “Something other than just existing.”

Dan nodded. He hadn’t known how unhappy Barry must have been with his life; regardless, he could certainly rectify that.

42.

Meanwhile, upstairs….

“What’s up, Suzy? I can tell something’s bothering you,” Barry said as he slid the nightstand over against the wall. 

He looked over his shoulder and watched as Suzy bit her lip. “Uh, well….it’s Arin.”

Barry’s brows crinkled. “Are you guys having a fight? It seemed fine to me.”

“No, no, everything’s going great. I mean, really great. But there are just things that he says sometimes….I think I’m getting the wrong idea about what kind of relationship we have.”

She was picking at her shirt, nervous. “What do you mean?” Barry asked. “You two were dating before I even met you.”

“It’s not the dating thing. It’s….what comes after.” She paused, unsure of whether or not to go on. Barry waited patiently until she continued. “It seems like he’s dropping hints about, you know, a life together. Marriage. But every time I mention something like that, he changes the subject and makes a joke out of it.”

“You think you’re, I dunno, taking it the wrong way?”

“Yeah. Sometimes he seems on the brink of proposing, and God, do I wish he would, but then, he just pulls away like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I don’t know, it just has me so worked up.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Barry offered. 

Suzy looked nervous, but nodded. “Could you? Like, not outright,” she said. 

“Of course not!” he said. A question popped into his head, though he did not dare voice it: If I talked to Arin about your relationship, could you talk to Dan about ours?  
It was a completely ludicrous idea to even entertain—he had a fleeting crush on his new roommate. He wouldn’t dare take it any farther, or even try; after living with the man, he was bound to like him less and less. 

After Barry and Dan did live together for a while, however, Barry found himself liking him more and more.


	5. Another Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no good at titles. Honestly, I keep forgetting what the name of the fic is called--don't judge me poorly for my atrocious chapter titles.

V: In which our characters grow closer emotionally and literally. 

Two weeks after Barry moved into Dan’s apartment, he, Barry, was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the back of the sofa. He had a habit of sitting in odd positions for apparently no reason—this time, his back was against the seat and his head was propped up against a pillow. He wiggled his toes and twiddled his thumbs; he was bored. 

He heard the harsh slamming of a door and the furious stomping of feet. “Dan?” he called. 

The aforesaid Dan came around the corner of the hallway, looking irritated, tired and frazzled. He caught sight of Barry on the couch and stopped abruptly, breaking into a smile that seemed reluctant. Barry’s heart skipped a beat at the way it so drastically changed his face. 

Dan rushed forward and leaned over the back of the couch, his hair falling in front of his face. The man’s tall frame shook with light laughter. “What are you doing?” he asked good-naturedly. “You, just sitting there…. That has to be the best thing I’ve seen all day.”

Barry passed off his growing blush as merely a result of being practically upside-down. “Yeah? Bad day, I guess?”

He wondered what could go so wrong for Dan that made him this…. tired. Dan lifted his head and nodded. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He made his way around the couch and plopped himself down. “I don’t know if I want to rant about it or forget it.”

“I’d be glad to listen,” Barry offered. 

Dan looked back at him and smiled appreciatively. Then, suddenly, he let himself fall backward, placing his fluffy head on Barry’s stomach as though it were a pillow. 

Barry supposed that it was. “It’s weird; I like people and I like being around them, talking to them. Laughing with them. But every so often, there are days when people just don’t like me. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“You ran into some unpleasant people at work?” Barry guessed. Dan nodded. 

“That’s an understatement. I mean, all throughout the day, I’d been tired and annoyed at the smallest of things because nothing was going well…. Then, a party of maybe five people went up to the front desk and actually told the manager that their food would have tasted much better if I weren’t there.”

He groaned in pity of himself and turned onto his side, burring his head deep into Barry’s chest. Barry was suddenly scared that Dan could feel how fast and hard his heart was beating, could see how red his face was growing. However, Dan didn’t take notice of those things; instead, he just stared at Barry’s eyes underneath his tired lids. 

Seemingly acting on its own accord, Barry’s hand found the fluff of hair on Dan’s head ruffled it in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Dan smiled at him, closing his eyes and sighing. He curled his body next to Barry and snuggled into his side. 

Barry suggested, “Lets watch something to take your mind off it.” He reached to the short table in front of the couch for the TV remote with one hand, keeping the other settled upon Dan’s head.

The hours passed. Barry’s feet grew cold, so he slowly maneuvered himself to lay regularly on the couch, and Dan, who seemed to be asleep (or in a state close to it) shifted with him. Barry’s watched beeped and signaled the passing of yet another hour, but he lost track of which one it was. 

He let his eyes close for just a moment.

42.

When Dan opened his eyes, he saw sunlight filtering through the curtained windows, bathing the room in the yellow tint of midmorning. He noticed two bizarre things:

One, he had woken up on the couch. He didn’t specifically remember going to bed or even falling asleep, but he knew that the sofa wasn’t his location of choice. All he remembered was stomping into the apartment and…. Oh, yeah, that brought him to the second bizarre thing:

He was both using his roommate as a pillow and acting as his blanked, half lying on top of him. Barry was snoring lightly, oblivious to the fact of which Dan was most aware. 

Dan seriously considered getting up, but cuddling next to Barry was just so warm…. His arms were wrapped around Barry’s middle and Barry had one hand loosely tangled in Dan’s hair, which made for an overall comfortable situation. It would certainly be awkward once Barry woke up, though. 

He tried to shift away from Barry and stand up from the couch, but the movement caused his roommate to stir. Barry made a noise that sounded vaguely like “snuffledumber, Dan.”

Dan instantly froze, nervous at being caught trying to leave. He was the one holding Barry, not the other way around: his biggest fear then was that Barry would be repulsed by this somehow. 

“You don’t have work today, Dan. Stop moving,” a sleepy voice said.

Dan allowed himself to relax and smile, but his face fell when it dawned on him that Barry would have never said that if he were fully awake. 

42.

Later that day, neither of them mentioned what had happened that morning. Barry decided to clean the counters of the dust that had accumulated there, thoughts of his job praying on his mind. 

His boss allowed him to keep his job, despite the brief, abrupt hiatus in his work schedule. Once Barry set up his computer, he could get back to work editing, but he just fell into the same routine as before, with the new addition of Dan.

Something needed to change. Barry needed a new job. Another editor position, obviously, but maybe a different type…. not advertising. Entertainment? 

Barry knew that the possibility that he would ever get a job in that field were so infinitely small, and that dampened his spirits immensely, but he would deeply regret it later if he didn’t even try. 

“Danny,” Barry called, knowing that his friend was in the living room. “Do you know of any editing jobs around here?”

Dan walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “You mean other than the one you currently have? ‘Cause that one’s just upstairs.”

Barry sent him a glance. “Oh, yes,” he said in an obviously forced tone. “I forgot where I worked, Dan, thanks for reminding me.”

He walked forward and nudged Barry’s shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m just kidding. But why do you want another job?”

“Because this one sucks? Because I’m miserable at it? There have to be better editing jobs out there.”

Nodding, Danny murmured, “There have to be….” He began to think, which was often a dangerous task, usually resulting in the loss of quite a few brain cells. “Hey, let’s go for a walk,” he said, turning to leave the kitchen and grab his coat. 

“Uh, hey, Dan,” Barry said, not following him. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going outside,” he said. “Yeah, yeah, I know, outside’s gross. But you can’t do any editing right now, not if you’re miserable doing it. Today’s Sunday; I had my bad day yesterday, and you’ve got your bad day tomorrow. Let’s enjoy it right now, though.”

Barry turned to him. “How do you know that tomorrow’s going to be my bad day?”

“When aren’t editing days your bad days?” he asked. 

Touché, Barry thought. 

42.

Part of the reason Dan convinced Barry to take a walk with him was because of Arin; he and Dan had become fast friends, and for much of the time they spent together, they spoke of Barry. Arin and Suzy were very protective of their friend, he learned, and after a few conversations over the phone, so was Dan. He found himself worrying about Barry’s happiness (or rather, the lack thereof), usually centered around his job. 

Another part was the fact that he liked spending time with Barry when he was happy. After he’d been around his computer for hours on end, his eyes were bloodshot and glassy and Dan could not help but empathize with him, wishing better for his friend.

Sometimes, Dan imagined hugging him better—embracing him and just washing the bloodshot eyes and monotonous days away. He suppose he tried to earlier that morning—hadn’t quiet worked. 

“Where are we going?” Barry asked again. He didn’t like not having a destination—he couldn’t just wander. Dan felt that he could wander for an eternity, so long as there was nothing keeping him anywhere. As it was, the only person that could potentially hold him in one place was walking with him.

“We’re going to….” Dan thought for a moment. “A mall. Let’s just wander around, watch some other people wandering around.”

“So, basically, we’re just going to waste a whole day?” Dan watched his hands as Barry rolled up his sleeves. 

“Basically.”


	6. Who do you think you are?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this next chapter. I tried not to make it /too/ thoroughly dissatisfying :) It's a bit shorter ad not much happens, but it's some pretty important set-up for later and it felt like a good stopping point.

VI: In which an old, forgettable face makes an appearance. But just the face, nothing else—I guess the green-screen they use for weathermen was exactly the same color as his suit. 

As he sat at a small round table in the food court of a mall, Danny tapped his foot to the song playing loudly inside his head—this way, he could block out the rumble of voices and feet hitting tiled floor around him and focus just on the look of everyone milling about in the mall, doing their own thing, without a care in the world. 

He wished he could say that he had no care in the world as well, but that would be a bold-faced lie. He also wished he could say that the tapping of his foot was only a result of the song stuck in his head, rather than being at least half nerves. 

It was hopeless, though. Dan tried to act cool, but he knew it wasn’t working. Barry wasn’t stupid, he was sure; he could see right through Dan’s façade, right through to the blindly loyal puppy love waiting underneath. 

Because that’s what it was, he knew. Puppy love. It was sightless and in-the-moment. Unrealistic. 

Shut up about puppies and love, Dan scolded himself. He knew Barry would be back soon; he needed to act regular. 

The thing was, for all the weeks they lived together, Danny found it harder and harder to just act like himself. It was always “Barry might think this” or “what would Barry think of that” that stopped him from tossing his dirty underwear in the corner of his room or forgetting to place his shoes on the rack. 

Barry’s habits were naturally as neat and crisp as the trip of his beard, while Dan’s were haphazard and sloppy, something Barry never caught glimpse of because Dan was suddenly so self-conscious about it. 

Yes, it was just puppy love. Dan thought that was a bit of a misnomer—he had never felt this way about a puppy. Nor has a puppy every felt this way about Barry, hopefully. 

What the hell was puppy love anyway?

“And I have returned,” Barry announced, coming up behind Dan. 

The music in his head stopped, and the sound of Barry’s voice flooded his mind. His senses automatically zeroed in on Barry, which he supposed was the ‘puppy’ aspect of the whole thing. But that would also imply that there was love somewhere….

Barry proffered a platter of greasy, gross, delicious food, which Dan gladly accepted. “Thanks,” he said as Barry sat in the chair opposite him. 

Their two food platters were overlapping, and their elbows, both resting rather disrespectfully on the table; all of it made him realize how small the table was. Dan could lean forward slightly and almost touch foreheads with Barry. 

But of course, he wouldn’t do that, no matter how desperately the little puppy in him wanted to. 

“Is there still no reason for this little excursion?” Barry asked him. 

Dan shrugged. Oh, no reason at all. It’s just that you’ve got a few worried friends, myself included, who fear you might be eating yourself up with all this miserable work you’re doing. “Yep, no reason. Just wanted to get out of that smelly apartment.”

“Blame yourself for the stench,” Barry joked. “It’s smelled the same since I moved in.”

“Must’ve been the Brian residue. Haven’t quite scrubbed it off the floors yet,” Dan waved his hand. “Speaking of Brian, have you ever thought about getting a job in the music business?”

Barry raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips in a way that just made Danny chuckle. “You know I’m not a musician, right?”

“No, I mean, music videos need editors, right? Or television producers, or movie producers. Really, anything you see on a screen.” Dan was genuinely confused about this; how hard could it be to find a job in something so widespread as editing?

“It’s not quite so widespread as you think,” Barry said. “Most places want people with experiences editing whatever it is they’d be working for. It’s a circle that I can’t ever get out of; advertising is where I was just unlucky enough to start.”

“That settles it. Let me so get some scissors,” Dan pretended to get up. “To cut this ‘circle.’”

“It’s not a literal, paper circle,” Barry sighed. “It’s an idea. But it restricts you, it really does.”

“Then I’ll /think/ of some scissors. /Ideally/, I’d cut that circle.”

He just chuckled in response, a noise that lacked humor, and shook his head. Dan preferred his laughter when it had actual amusement behind it.  
Suddenly, Barry froze, eyes locked on something behind Dan, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Is that—” he muttered to himself, but was suddenly silenced by a loud exclamation.

“Barry Kramer, correct?!” shouted a voice. Dan spun around to see a man in a shabby suit—honestly, he was better dressed than anyone else in the mall. 

“Yes. Jim. Hi,” Barry said, his tone clipped. Dan looked between the two of them, utterly confused. 

“It was you, correct! It was you,” his tone was laced with so much venom that it dripped down the corner of his mouth in the form of spittle. He walked right up to Barry and pointed a knobby finger in his face, pressing against his nose. Barry recoiled. 

“Hey,” Dan warned, standing and placing a hand on this man’s shoulder. He pulled him away from Barry quickly. “Back off.”

Jim shrugged him off and clasped his hands behind his back sternly. “You stole the money! I know it was! Once you left, correct, it stopped disappearing!”

“Maybe because I was the only one paying rent,” Barry snapped back. “It was my money there in the first place—and if you hadn’t left it outside your office, it wouldn’t be missing in the first place!”

“Not correct, not correct!” The man swore, kicking Barry’s seat harshly. Dan’s annoyance grew to anger and it was evident in his gaze, he was sure. “I’ll prove it, just you wait!” Another kick. This time, it shifted Barry’s chair back several inches. 

“Seriously, who do you think you are?” Dan said sternly, tugging the man away from his friend. He shoved him a few feet back for good measure, but Jim didn’t retaliate; he kept kicking, but his foot only met the thin air around him. “Come on, Barry, I think our trip’s done. What about you? Was it worth it?”

Dan offered his hand to Barry, who took it reluctantly. He seemed more inclined to stay and argue with this rude passerby, but Dan clutched his hand and lead him out of the food court. 

“Who was that?” Dan demanded, not angry at Barry, but rather, at the situation. 

“My old landlord,” Barry supplied. “Trust me, I didn’t steal his money—I really didn’t.” He looked up at Dan, worried that he would not believe him.  
“I thought you were evicted because you didn’t pay rent.”

“I was, on paper,” he said. “But I paid my rent, every month. I wasn’t a day late, never. But that idiot—” Barry paused for a moment to take a breath and calm down. “He didn’t check the mailbox. He didn’t pick up the money I gave him—he left it outside his door. And it disappeared, that’s what he’s mad about.”

Dan could tell that, though he tried to calm down, Barry was still fuming. The taller man realized that he was still holding his hand, so he took advantage of that fact and pulled him closer. 

“Come on, it’s over. You’re better off now, anyway, right?”

“I’m better off,” Barry agreed half-heartedly; Dan was not satisfied. 

“You’re better off,” he asserted, dropping his hand and instead slinging his arm over his plaid-clad shoulder. “You are. And I am too.”


End file.
